


fight club

by sweetwatersong



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fights, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:34:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She has bruises on her knuckles, bruises in her eyes, and she'll knock out the respect they won't give her. (She doesn't have to go it alone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	fight club

She starts off in the self-defense class because her partner in freshman chemistry asks her to, finds the moves to be ones her muscles remember like the flow of water, the touch of rain. She switches to the Judo club her sophomore year, thinks she will keep her grace with lessons and kicks and long hours on the mats, and finds she is not welcome there.

Is not wanted, not respected, not tolerated there.

It devolves into fights behind Sensei’s back, quick raps of a knuckle or flips just this side of too forceful, until these boy-seeming-men are slamming her into the mats and her breath passes through her lips. Sensei knows that something is wrong, tries to catch them at it as they taunt and berate and sneer at her with word and lip and gesture, but breaks turn into brawls and she finds herself fighting with bloody lips and earnestness, blocking dodging sliding out of reach. Sensei returns as she sends Justin into a wall, and the crack of his voice is sharp in the silence that follows.

He files papers, pulls her aside, says he will press charges until she keeps her silence and shakes her head.

After that it’s fights behind the gym at night, when the other students are in their classes and learning, and she teaches the meaning of respect and ‘woman’ and nails to the boys who don’t understand she is half their weight and twice their worth. They keep coming, keep falling, and she ghosts into the shadows when the double doors open up.

The danger isn’t only there, here, it lurks outside the streetlights and on the pitted sidewalks she must cross to travel home, and even in the dark streets she isn’t safe; no one is. Violence threads through the night on these roads, and the other girls peel off in pairs, in nervous groups or with cat key chains in their fists.

She hobbles out from the pine trees, passing the windows filled with warmth and light, and does not look at the sophomore waiting there.

Maria walks beside her as she limps home, balancing on the ball of one foot while her ankle screams and the flexors in her right hip ache, bruised and beaten but never broken. They never talk about it, Hill’s shoulders straight and firm under the small pools of lamplight, the night and the monsters kept at bay in the darkness; they never exchange glances, or apologies, or brush the silent offer off. But Maria walks beside her, barely half a step ahead, and Natasha slips into her apartment door with the keys held in scraped hands, bloody knuckles, and doesn’t look back to see her leave.

She passes Maria’s table in the library cafe, laid out with textbooks and careful notes in highlighting and codes, and sets a paper cup of tea beside her.

Maria glances up as she takes a seat, sliding into the tall chair carefully, and so very nearly smiles.


End file.
